


The Blade Cuts Two Ways

by OnyxDrake9



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Difficult Decisions, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 19:39:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13301826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxDrake9/pseuds/OnyxDrake9
Summary: Orna Cadash finds herself saddled with the unenviable task of choosing whether to approach the mages or the templars, a decision that is not easy to make – even with Sera adding her tuppence.





	The Blade Cuts Two Ways

"It's shite!" I say then knock back the bitter dregs of my ale.

A few heads turn, but the rest of The Singing Maiden's patrons studiously concern themselves with their card games and banter.

Sera grins at me. "Well, you wanted to be all posh like, hanging out with the fancy breeches."

"I didn't ask for this!" I show her my left palm, then gain a small measure of gratification when she flinches ever so slightly.

"Oi! Don't you point that thing at me."

Sera doesn't like magic. I forget that sometimes. "Sorry." I hang my head. "Look at me, a magic-wielding dwarf. Booyeah. And my drink is finished." I allow my forehead to rest on the splintery tabletop. The ale hasn't even touched sides.

"Hey!" Sera's cool fingers clasp my right hand, and I manage to drag myself upright again so that I can peer at her.

"I'm going to feel like nug droppings tomorrow," I moan. "And I can barely see across the bleeding war table. You know Josephine suggested that they bring in a foot stool. A bloody footstool! For me!"

Sera shrugs. "But you can see, yeah?"

"It's embarrassing."

"We can go cut the legs off the table, what do you say?" Her smile is wicked. "Then they can all kneel?"

I imagine Josephine's outraged expression, and the laughter that bubbles up from my tailbone shakes my belly. "Maker's arse!" Then I think a little more about how we'd need to sneak in past the guards with saws, and some of the joy bleeds away. "I'd be in so much trouble."

"And so?" Sera waggles her brows.

"I need another drink."

"Nah, you don't. I think you're filled to the eyeballs, lady."

"There's not enough ale in the world to drown my sorrows."

"Pffffffft! Now you're just being a drama queen. 'Sides, there's no need to be a sad puppy. I'm here."

I huff. "I'd be able to enjoy your company a lot more if it weren't for that bloody great meeting hanging above my head like a figurative templar's sword ready to knock my block off. Dunno why they all keep lookin' at me when there're big decisions to be made."

Sera laughs. "'cos you're the one who stuck your neck out in the first place. Plus, you're all glowy, yeah?"

"Don't start with _that_ again."

She's got the usual Sera-shit-eating-grin again. "Always!"

"Serious. I don't know why I put up with you."

"Because I'm fun?"

"Something like that." I huff out a breath and my stomach plunges uncomfortably. Maybe I shouldn't have had that last tankard. I can already feel the beginnings of drymouth starting, and a frown collects on my brow. "I think I should call it a night."

"Awww, already? The night's but a pup."

"And the bloody ambassador will have her underlings haul me out of my bed at sparrow's fart." I rise, but my legs don't quite work, and I find myself hanging onto the table.

Sera's up and around to my side in a heartbeat, and I'm grateful for her warm strength holding me up, and the smell of strawberries. How is it that she always smells of strawberries? I need to ask her at some point.

"Whoops there!" she says, and helps me get upright.

I'm grateful that she doesn't let me go. 

"I'll be fine," I say.

"Yeah, and nugs can fly and piss lime cordial. Lemme help you to the cabin at least, yeah?"

I'm conscious of the way the other patrons stare, and something must pass between Flissa and Sera, because Flissa comes out from behind the counter and fetches my cloak from the row of pegs. Somehow between Sera and the barkeep, I'm all bundled up like a dwarfling by the time Sera leads me out of the tavern.

The cold outside is shocking, to say the least, and my breath mists before my face.

"It's quite a walk," Sera says. Her arm is around my shoulder, and I lean into her, grateful for the stability she offers.

"You don't need to, really."

"It's clean across Haven, luv."

She's calling me 'love'. A silly grin plasters itself across my face. "All right then."

I need to clear my head, and Sera walking here,  _holding_ me, for fuck's sakes, isn't helping. Above us the stars are glittering, so cold, so distant, and the chill wind ices my face.

"It's still shite," I tell her.

"Leave the idjits for the morning."

"I won't be able to sleep," I tell her. "I can't figure out which way to go."

"They can all hang themselves if you ask me," Sera chips in. "They're stupid."

"We bloody well need someone. I mean the bloody commander makes sense when he says that the templars will help counteract the breach's power." I hold up my left hand. "And this. I don't know what the fuck this can actually do. I mean, it's like I'm walking about with a great glowy  _key_ instead of a hand. No one should have this sort of power."

"Yet you have it." Sera sounds sad, almost.

"Yessss," I hiss out the word. "And I don't want. The more I think about it, the less I want it."

"Maybe it's 'cos you don't want it that it's good, right? I mean you're not one of them posh faces that needs the little people to wipe their arses. You're going to do the things with heart." She squeezes my shoulder.

We fall silent as we pass a trio of guards on patrol, who nod at us with muttered "Herald" before we round a corner then take a short cut between cottages. Some lights are still shining, a few windows here and there unshuttered so we can see an elven woman busy sharpening a blade, a human man bent over his ledgers. All normal shite. I almost envy them. They don't have to make a decision that may change the course of an entire world.

"The templar dude is an arse," I say with conviction. "His henchman punched the frigging Chantry mother and he didn't give a rat's arse. Plus he got totally rude with Cassandra, and she might be a stuck-up, holier-than-though type but she's not a bad sort. So far as I'm concerned, they can take a piss in their armour and rust themselves into their graves."

Sera laughs. "They're smelly, the lot of them. Stinky breeches." 

We both cackle at that.

I pause, look up at the stars again. "Then there's the mages. You see, they was just all just words for me. The mages in the circles. Just words that mean nothing to me 'cos I'm grubbing about in the dirt with the rest of the surfacers. Moving a shipment here, making some blades disappear. All in a day's work."

"Mages are too..." She tilts her head and looks up to. "You gonna fall over full of stars."

"They're pretty."

"The mages? Nah."

"No, the stars."

Sera straightens, shakes her head, and I'm looking up at her, her round lips I wish I could reach, kiss maybe. 

Then I'm plunging on, my boots crunching in the snow, and Sera rushes to keep up.

"Thing is, Sera," I tell her, "the mages are just people. That's what we forget. I was going to listen to the commander, but ... the way I figure it, the templars are all sharp. And I don't want their blades at our throats. The mages didn't ask for any of this. I understand that. You know you told me think about the little people. They're important. They got a raw deal all this time, and if I'm... If I'm going to be growing into all this 'Herald' shite, I may as well make the kinds of decisions that will ... make big changes in people's lives."

Just like that. The resolution grows and I tip away from the indecision. Sera pauses with me on the threshold of my cottage. She's frowning, looking down at me, for once silent.

"Cat got your tongue?" I smile impishly at her. (At least I hope it's impish and not completely lunatic-like.)

"You a silly goose."

"Thank you," I say to her.

"For what?"

"For being you." I reach out and take her hand.

She squeezes my fingers. "Tart." Then she's off, stops about five paces away to blow me a raspberry over her shoulder.

And I stand for a good while yet, breathing in the night, the cold, feeling my head clear and watching the way the Breach coruscates above a sleepy Haven with its ominous green magic. Somehow, this night, none of my problems seem insurmountable. Just maybe.


End file.
